The moment Caleb's cold fingers touched me, a burning heat spread from my cheeks all the way to the tips of my ears! Caleb frowned slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes: "Chloe, is this how you take care of yourself?" 1 I was pulling an all-nighter, grinding through product documentation, when a sharp, stabbing pain hit my left breast. Thinking back, this had been happening for almost a month. Panicking, I quickly opened the hospital app and booked an appointment with a breast specialist at St. Jude’s Medical Center. When my number was called, I rushed eagerly into the consultation room. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze. Caleb Wright was sitting in front of the computer, his eyes glued to an X-ray, occasionally explaining something to the seven or eight stylishly dressed medical residents gathered around him. I tried desperately to recall the name of the doctor I had booked. It was 100% not Caleb Wright! St. Jude’s had the best breast surgery department in the city, and despite his young age, Caleb had already become its top surgeon. Getting an appointment with him was harder than winning the lottery. Of course, I would never have booked an appointment with him on purpose. Because Caleb Wright was my ex-boyfriend. The doctor I had originally booked, a man around forty with black-rimmed glasses, saw me come in and beamed. "You're in luck today, young lady! Dr. Wright is here reviewing scans. Come on, tell us, what’s bothering you?" Caleb stretched his neck, lifted his gaze, and looked at me. His dark eyes still sparkled like stars. His clear, soothing voice came through his surgical mask: "Chloe Bennett, right? What seems to be the problem?" Seeing him again, I almost drowned in those clear, deep eyes of his. I stared blankly for three seconds before snapping myself out of his mesmerizing spell. "Um... well... I felt a lump on the left side..." This. Was. So. Awkward! He typed my symptoms into the medical record with practiced ease, asking methodically, "Does it hurt?" "No." "How long has it been like this?" "About a month." "Dr. Patel, could you perform a physical exam on her?" He turned to the female doctor sitting next to him, then turned back to the computer screen. I lay down on the examination bed, letting the female doctor... After examining me for a while, her brow remained tightly furrowed. My heart instantly sank. Whenever a doctor frowns, it’s never a good sign. She turned to Caleb. "Dr. Wright, you should take a look at this." I’m doomed. She actually called Caleb over to check? Do I have a terminal illness? Hearing her, Caleb walked over, followed closely by his trailing gaggle of medical residents. A whole crowd of people, including one or two men? You’ve got to be kidding me. Was my lovely figure going to be exposed to all these people? Even if I was just a piece of meat in their professional eyes, I still had my modesty, okay?! Sob... Caleb approached with his long strides, shot a cold glare at the people behind him, and with a swift sweep of his long arm, smoothly pulled the privacy curtain shut. Thank God! "Pull your shirt up," he said, his voice low. His eyes were downcast, not looking at me. Whatever. I shouldn't care so much. My life was more important. I quickly pulled up my shirt. Damn it. Of course I was wearing the lingerie set I had bought for his birthday. This was too embarrassing... 2 I was with Caleb for three years, and I had lusted after him for five. But he had never laid a hand on me. For his birthday last year—well, technically just three months ago—I specially bought a black lace set. Extremely confident in my figure, I was thrilled, thinking tonight was the night I'd finally say goodbye to my innocence. So, after taking a shower, I rushed to his room. When I poked my head in and saw he didn't object, I boldly slipped under the covers. The result? His thick brows furrowed slightly. He quickly grabbed his jacket, wrapped me up tight like a burrito, effortlessly slung me over his shoulder, tossed me back into my own room, and left me with one sentence: "Have you no shame, Chloe?" For a while, I seriously wondered if he had some unspeakable medical condition. So, the next day, I tried to trick him into visiting a men's health clinic. Of course, it didn't work. How could my petty tricks fool a top-tier medical professional? Refusing to give up, I bought a bunch of "supplements" online. The result was that half an hour after drinking a cup of black coffee I’d personally brewed for him, he came looking for me, cup in hand, while I was petting my cat. Holding the cup, his face was dark, his eyes terrifyingly gloomy. His voice was deep and grave: "Chloe, what did you put in this coffee?" I felt incredibly guilty. I pretended to groom Meatball, who was sprawled out comfortably, and answered with forced casualness: "Nothing! Just put a little more sugar than usual. You work so hard, I wanted you to have something sweet!" After saying that, I flashed him an innocent, sweet smile. He set the cup down, stepped forward, and with one sweeping motion, scooped me up in a princess carry and laid me on the bed. Then, he leaned over me. His firm, muscular chest pressed against mine. At that moment, his lips were less than two inches from mine. His captivating, peach-blossom eyes stared intently at me, his Adam's apple bobbing. Oh God, I can't take it. Yes, please! After a long pause, he said in a low voice: "Chloe, you've crossed the line." I was over the moon, my heart racing, plotting to buy more of that "supplement" because clearly, it worked wonders. But, as it turned out, I was overthinking it. This position lasted for exactly three minutes before Caleb got up, straightened his clothes, and walked out. Just like that, he walked out... Plan failed. In a fit of rage, I threw all the supplements away. Which Meatball ended up eating. He spent the next few nights howling at my window. Unable to bear the noise, I ruthlessly took Meatball to the vet and had him neutered. A cold touch brought me back to the present. My cheeks and ears burned intensely. Before, I had racked my brain trying to get him to touch me, and he refused. Now, I was getting my wish under these circumstances. It seemed my charm level really wasn't high enough to arouse the stoic, ascetic Dr. Caleb Wright. His fingers moved gently as he asked in a low voice: "Tell me if it hurts." "Mhm." I responded softly, pretending to be calm, but in reality, I was so nervous my nails were digging into my palms, stinging with pain. He paused for a few seconds when he pinched the lump, then withdrew his hand. He took a shallow breath, frowning at me: "Chloe, is this how you take care of yourself?" I pursed my lips and asked tentatively, "Dr. Wright, is it... is it really bad?" He stood to the side, his brow still furrowed, his voice heavy: "We need to do a core needle biopsy. I'll go with you. Right now." For Caleb to frown, the situation must really be bad. I had already started drafting my will in my head, wondering who I could entrust my arrogant cat to. After all, my mom really disliked my cat. Caleb strode forward, and I jogged to keep up with him. He was tall and walked like the wind. Even in a white coat, he stood out in the crowd. 3 This scene suddenly made me a little sad, reminding me of how I used to tirelessly follow Caleb around at Johns Hopkins. He was the unattainable "flower on the high peak" at Hopkins. Rumor had it he was an exceptional talent, specially selected by the university. He published a paper that shocked the medical community at 18 and was admitted to Hopkins before even taking his final exams. Caleb was also an immovable iceberg. Since he enrolled, the number of girls chasing him was as numerous as hairs on a cow, but he rejected every single one of them. Everyone rumored that Caleb didn't like women. When did I start liking Caleb? It was probably when I saw him speaking eloquently at a podium. The cool, immensely confident demeanor of that young man instantly crashed into my heart. Or maybe it was on the way back from class, his tall, slender figure in a black trench coat and that handsome, ascetic face that instantly bewitched my teenage heart. Later, I decided it was when he stood at the classroom door and asked, "Who is Chloe Bennett?" And then casually pointed out an error in my notes: "In your pharmacology notes, the diagram for the mechanism of local anesthesia on page ten is wrong." How could a young girl experiencing her first crush resist that? That night, I boldly declared on the university forum: "Chloe Bennett will win Caleb Wright's heart!" The forum exploded that night. "Good luck!" "Brave!" "Grabbing my popcorn!" "If you catch Caleb, I'll live-stream myself singing!" On a starry midsummer night, I stopped Caleb after he finished anatomy class. Mustering all my courage, I looked up at his sharply defined jawline and said, "Caleb, I'm going to pursue you!" He frowned slightly, shot me a cold glance, and parted his thin lips: "Don't block my way." This was an expected outcome. However, I didn't lose heart. I was 100% confident in my looks, and I believed the old saying that a girl chasing a boy is as easy as piercing a veil. What everyone saw after that was Chloe Bennett tirelessly trailing behind Caleb Wright. From spring to summer, and then from summer to winter. During meals, I'd shamelessly sit next to Caleb. He would frown slightly, but strangely, he never told me to leave. During his presentations, I always went out of my way to get a front-row seat. He would speak clearly on stage, and I would cheer loudly for him from the audience. When his clear, spring-water-like eyes swept over the audience and landed on me, even if only for a second, I'd be excited all night. I brought him homemade iced lattes when it was hot, knitted him a scarf when it was cold, bought him medicine when he was sick... I used every highly-rated chasing tactic on the forum. Even though he always said coldly, "I don't drink this," or "I don't need it." But I remained tireless. Even I found myself annoying, but thankfully, Caleb never blocked me. He said, "Chloe, don't waste your time on me." "Chloe, the lattes you make don't taste good. Stop bringing them." "Chloe, focus on your studies." "Chloe, I don't like you." I thought to myself, just persist a little longer. The current Caleb was willing to talk to me, which was a small achievement. The love of youth surges like a massive wave, accompanied by a brave, stubborn refusal to turn back until hitting a brick wall. Caleb's clear voice pulled me back to reality: "This will hurt a little. Bear with it." When the needle pierced my skin, he gripped my hand tightly. "Put a rush on these results for me," he told the doctor performing the biopsy. When we left the room, he had his hands in his coat pockets and instructed me: "Go home for now. I'll notify you when the results are out. Be careful not to massage the area forcefully." Me: ... Why would I massage it forcefully... This medical advice was truly embarrassing. Out of politeness, I thanked him. He turned his face away slightly: "No need. Professional habit." After saying that, he strode away. 4 See? Breaking up was the right decision. Caleb simply didn't like me, just as he had told me five years ago. It still hurt a lot, though, even if I was the one who initiated the breakup. Two months ago, he told me he was going on a business trip. But he actually went to a hotel. He forgot to delete a text message before leaving, and I saw it. The content was: "Hey handsome, I'm at the Bellagio Hotel." The moment I saw that message, my heart clenched, and I could barely breathe. I followed him to the hotel. He stayed inside all night. The next morning, he came out with a gorgeous, glamorous young woman. My chest spasmed continuously, my throat felt blocked, and I didn't even realize I had dug my nails into my palms until they bled. I didn't have the courage to confront him. Wearing a mask, I hid behind the hotel wall. After they left, I took a cab to my apartment building and bought two coffees and some bagels. I called him and asked, "Are you back? I'm waiting for you to have breakfast." He answered casually and relaxed, "You eat first. I'm on my way, I'll be there in half an hour." How could Caleb, who was always meticulous, forget to delete a text message? Perhaps he truly didn't care about me at all, so he didn't feel the need to hide it. That afternoon, when Caleb pushed open the apartment door, I was on the balcony hanging laundry. He walked up to me and took a delicate box out of his bag. His long fingers opened the velvet box, revealing a delicate dolphin necklace. The dolphin's eyes were set with two diamonds, sparkling with fine light, just like his eyes. Caleb's eyes were full of a gentleness I had never seen before. In the past, his eyes always carried a faint sense of detachment. He said, "This is for you, Chloe." During our three years together, Caleb actually gave me things often. It's just that he never gave them to me in person. He would always just have them shipped to the apartment and then coolly inform me: "Chloe, your gift arrived. Go get it." The things I received were always the latest season's releases, and coincidentally, they were exactly the styles I liked. Holding a limited-edition Chanel bag, I’d run up to him acting all cute, blinking my starry eyes, and saying in a sweet voice: "Oh my god, did you pick this out yourself? I love it, love it, love it! You're so, so, so thoughtful!" Caleb's fingers would fly across his keyboard without even looking up at me. He’d part his thin lips and throw out a sentence: "The personal shopper picked it. Glad you like it." I’d pout, drape my arms over his shoulders, and say coquettishly: "Well, you gave it to me, so I'm happy." His fingers would pause for a few seconds before he said softly: "Alright, I still have things to take care of. You go to sleep first." Then he would go back to furiously typing on the keyboard. But this time, he personally picked out the gift and personally handed it to me. I should have been happy, but why did my heart feel like it was being pricked by needles? Caleb went out and spent the night with another woman, and suddenly his personality changed. Was he feeling guilty? I tossed and turned in bed late into the night, reading through many forums, and finally came to a conclusion: "Being a simp leaves you with nothing. Cut your losses early." 5 Then I sent a message to Caleb in the next room: "Caleb, let's break up." I didn't expect him to reply instantly. The content was infuriatingly indifferent: "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Go to sleep." Caleb really didn't love me; he didn't even care about breaking up. I listened to sad love songs under the covers and cried for most of the night. Looking at the time, I only had two hours before I had to get up. I rushed to the kitchen to grab an ice pack. I didn't want to go to work the next day with eyes swollen like puffy pastries. My major was Pharmacology, and my current job was in pharmaceutical R&D at a drug company. Unlike Caleb, I got into this major entirely through years of hard studying. Lacking natural talent, I had to put in 100% effort later on. At such a young age, Caleb had already secured the position of Chief of Breast Surgery at the best hospital in the city thanks to his exceptional skills. But me? I was still a nobody in the industry. After icing my eyes, I went back to the bedroom to catch an hour of sleep. When I got up, Caleb was leaning against the doorway waiting for me. He was wearing a gray trench coat that day. He stared at me intently, his voice a little hoarse: "Let's go. You're going to be late." "Okay." If you ask me why I dated Caleb for so long, the reason was that he never failed to do the things a boyfriend should do. Once, I scraped someone's car while driving to work. I called him, and he said in a deep voice: "Don't get out of the car. I'll be right there." Ten minutes later, he arrived at the scene. After he helped me handle everything, I thought he was going to scold me. Instead, he just rubbed my hair and said softly, "It's okay. From now on, I'll drive you." And then he drove me, rain or shine, for two years. Whenever I felt like he didn't care about me, the things he did would give me the illusion that he did. He could accurately remember my menstrual cycle. My period was never very regular, but every time he reminded me, it would arrive a day or two later. Sometimes when we were out and my period arrived suddenly, he would surprisingly pull a pad out of my bag, perfectly solving my awkwardness. I frowned and asked him: "When did you put that in there?" He took a sip of his coffee, lowered his head, and said coldly: "When it needed to be put in there." Birthday and holiday gifts and flowers were never late. But I still felt that there seemed to be a sense of detachment between us. He didn't seem as intimately close with me as other couples were. When my best friend Lily found out that after three years with Caleb, I was still an "unopened rose," she gave me advice. She said it must be because I hadn't completely conquered Caleb yet. So, I launched a passionate courtship campaign against Caleb. The result was that Caleb kissed me even less... The car parked downstairs at my company. After a long while, he spoke in a low voice: "Chloe, why do you want to break up?" My fingers were already on the door handle. I froze for a moment at his question, but quickly adjusted my state. I took a deep breath and answered him casually: "Caleb, I just don't like you anymore. Is that okay?" He fell silent. The narrow interior of the car instantly became dead quiet, with only the sound of our breathing rising and falling. After a long while, his slightly hoarse voice came through: "Take good care of yourself." He lifted his gaze to look at me, the emotions in his eyes dark and unclear. "Mhm." I pulled the car door open and walked straight upstairs. Three days later, Caleb cleanly moved out of my apartment. Looking at the room he used to live in, large tears rolled down my cheeks. 6 I don't know why Caleb moved in with me after I graduated and started working. He had never mentioned his family to me. Nor had he ever invited me to meet his parents. After he graduated, I was still in college. Back then, he often leaned against the big tree at the campus gate waiting for me to finish class, or he would wait for me with a bouquet of flowers. At that time, I really felt like the envy of every girl in the university. Whenever I asked questions about his family, he would deliberately change the subject. I guessed maybe he had a particularly pitiful background, an inspirational young man who relied on his super-high IQ to counterattack and achieve a perfect life. If he didn't want to talk about it, then I wouldn't ask. I didn't want to make him unhappy. It didn't matter; we were both ordinary people. As long as we worked hard, life wouldn't be bad. Besides, it looked like he was being treated very well. After the breakup, I was depressed for a while. Lily looked at me with a heartbroken expression and said: "Chloe, tell me, you managed to pluck that 'flower on the high peak,' why were you willing to let go at this point? Tsk, tsk, that's a very high-quality stock with great potential." "Think about all the hardships you went through to chase Caleb down! When it was time to reap the harvest, you just threw the whole pot out with the flower." I tilted my head back and drank the remaining half bottle of beer in my hand, answering in a low voice: "A flower on a high peak is just that. Even if I picked it, it still doesn't belong to me. Maybe only the moon hanging high in the sky is worthy of him." I still didn't tell Lily the real reason for the breakup. That night, I opened the university forum that had been dusty for years. That year, Caleb agreeing to date Chloe Bennett made the forum boil over again. After trailing Caleb like a puppy for two years, he remained lukewarm. I always thought there was no hope, and besides, he was about to leave soon. The Dean of St. Jude's had personally come to the university to recruit him. That day, golden-orange sunset clouds covered the sky. I couldn't find him in the study hall. I originally wanted to say goodbye to him. Perhaps to Caleb, whether I said goodbye or not didn't matter. Just as I was about to leave the study hall, Caleb appeared in the last row of the classroom. The afterglow of the setting sun poured down from above him, plating him with a layer of golden light. His white shirt was so white it was dazzling, blinding my eyes for a moment. He spoke in a low, clear, and bright voice: "Chloe, come here." I walked timidly towards him, the little deer in my heart constantly bumping around, as if it would break through my chest the next second, impatient to throw itself onto Caleb. When I walked up to him, Caleb suddenly reached out his long arms and pulled me into his embrace. What followed was his tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and sweet, sweet to the core of my heart. Only the coldness of his nose tip allowed me to regain a little bit of rationality. My limbs felt like they were filled with lead, unable to move, but the heat wave in my body surged tirelessly, making my ears and cheeks burn. His fingers supported the back of my head, slipping into my hair and gently running through it. I could feel the temperature of his fingertips, icy cold. He took out his phone, snapped a picture, and then let me go. "Chloe, make me a cup of your homemade iced latte tomorrow." He leaned against the desk, his expression lazy and content. His dark eyes seemed to hold a galaxy of stars; if I wasn't careful, I would drown in them. I was so excited I was incoherent, hurriedly agreeing: "O-okay." I knew that the star in the sky had taken root in my heart from then on. That night, this photo appeared on Caleb's social media page. In less than two minutes, my notifications exploded. This photo was pushed to the top trending topic at Hopkins. I still remember the top comments today: "The flower on the high peak has finally been picked." "Alright, live streaming tonight, I'll sing a song, welcome everyone to send me rockets." "Blessings, the goddess finally melted the iceberg." "Envious and jealous, my male god is now a taken man." My finger kept swiping on the screen, finally stopping on Caleb's page. That photo was still pinned to the top. The kiss under the sunset, beautiful and brief, just like our relationship. Perhaps at that time, Caleb was only moved by my two years of persistence. After the breakup, Caleb actually came looking for me. He leaned against the stairwell, a spark of fire at his fingertips. He lifted his eyes through the smoke, his voice a bit hoarse: "Chloe, are we really not going to continue?" I was surprised. When did he start smoking? I remembered he didn't smoke. So much so that I ignored his question. He spoke again: "Chloe, do you really want to leave?" My fingers tightened around my bag strap. At this moment, I had to be tough. I looked firmly into his eyes: "Yes." I thought he would say something else, even if it was just asking, "Why?" But he turned straight around and left, his back looking free and easy. 6 Two weeks ago, while I was organizing things at home, I found a document of Caleb's that he hadn't taken away. I opened it and found it was a real estate purchase contract. The owner was listed as "Sarah." I looked at the invoice, and the payer clearly said "Caleb Wright." My mind went completely blank. Caleb had bought a house for that woman, and paid in full. Yet I, his girlfriend of three years, didn't even know anything about his family situation. It felt like there were thousands of threads in my heart, densely tangled together, impossible to untie or sort out. I decided to go to the hospital and return it to him. Actually, I still wanted to hear how he would explain it, even though I knew I was very likely just going to humiliate myself. But I wanted to give my many years of love a clear period. Without making an appointment in advance, I went straight to his office. Walking into the office, a girl was standing beside Caleb. They seemed to be chatting. The girl's laughter was like a silver bell, his expression was gentle. I called out coldly: "Caleb, you forgot your things." Hearing this, they both turned around. When I saw the girl's face, my heart felt like it had taken a heavy blow, aching to the bone. Wasn't that girl the same one who came out of the hotel with him last time? As beautiful as a doll. Caleb saw me, a flash of light passed through his eyes for a moment, then dimmed again. He spoke flatly: "What are you doing here?" "Caleb, so this is the kind of person you are." I threw the documents in my hand onto his desk. The girl looked shocked and stood timidly to the side. Caleb frowned tightly after hearing this: "Chloe, what are you talking about? I don't understand." "Stop pretending. You've even brought a girl to the hospital." Caleb waved his hand helplessly, explaining: "She's my sister." Of course she's a sister. A sister with a different last name, a sister who spends the night in a hotel with you! Listening to his ridiculous explanation, I let out a deep breath. I didn't want to continue arguing with him about this embarrassing matter in the hospital. I still didn't have the courage to hear him say it himself, so I turned and walked out of the office. As the old saying goes, good fortune never comes in pairs, and misfortunes never come singly. Just after walking out the door, I ran into family members causing a scene at the hospital. Actually, as soon as I walked out the door, I heard what sounded like people arguing ahead. I thought it was normal to have arguments in a place like a hospital. Suddenly, a man holding a fruit knife rushed out of the crowd. Behind him, two security guards chased him with riot forks. The crowd began to riot, and people started screaming. When I realized the danger, the man was already swinging the knife and stabbing towards me. I quickly raised my bag to block it, my body falling backwards uncontrollably, smashing heavily against the stainless steel chairs behind me. Just when I thought I was done for, Caleb blocked in front of me with a beautiful right kick. The man fell to the ground with a thud, and the knife in his hand dropped onto the pristine white floor, making a crisp sound. After the man was taken away by security, Caleb bent down, picked me up, and ran wildly down the hallway. That girl seemed to be following behind him the whole time. My right wrist had somehow been slashed by the knife at some point, and blood kept flowing out. The bag I pushed out to block was also slashed with a huge gash. My poor Chanel... Inside the office, Caleb's brow was tightly furrowed, his eyes filled with bottomless anger. The hand holding the tweezers trembled slightly. After some manipulation, he bandaged my wound. The girl on the side looked like she was also badly frightened and didn't dare to speak. He lifted his eyes to look at me, residual anger still in his eyes, but he tried his best to lower his voice: "Didn't I tell you not to come to the hospital?" "Thank God you're okay today." My heart felt terribly blocked. I didn't respond to his words, coldly thanked him, then stood up and walked out. He reached out and blocked my way, his tone firm: "I'll take you home." For the next few days, Caleb would come and change my dressing before I went to work, until my wound was completely healed. Every day before he left, he instructed me: "Don't come looking for me at the hospital anymore. If something happens, call me." I wouldn't go. I would never go again. To avoid seeing them and feeling sad. I didn't ask him directly about the house either. I didn't want to hear the heart-piercing result again. The facts had already proven it, hadn't they? There was no need to go humiliate myself again. As adults, a breakup should be decent.
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